


Going Steady

by unsettled



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Banter, Dumb boys are dumb, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffuary, M/M, Quentin Beck POV, fighting as flirting, it's totally a date night, mysterio as a known villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Mysterio plots and Spider-Man thwarts him; it's what they do. It's what they do a lot, actually.So how dare Peter leave him hanging like this?(Prompt: Date night)
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55
Collections: Fluffuary 2021





	Going Steady

It starts almost as a joke. 

The problem with having Mysterio converted to a villain—and worse, having his multiverse bullshit exposed—is that he’s been significantly downgraded. In many ways, he’s more of an inconvenience than a real threat to most of the major players.

It’s not going to stay that way, but for now… for now, he carved himself out a niche of being Spider-Man’s main adversary. 

Main annoyance. 

So the fact that he started intentionally scheduling his plots to take place on Fridays, hopefully ruining Peter’s chances of enjoying his weekend, is as much down to annoying Peter as much as possible as it is to logistics. Especially since, if he wants to keep attention on him, he has to make sure Peter knows enough to show up and fight him. 

Sort of fight him. It’s mostly yelling—bantering—and bouncing around trying to pin Quentin down, trying to figure out which one is real. He hasn’t actually gotten in a good hit in months. 

And honestly, Quentin knows that Peter is letting him get away. It’s more than a little insulting, just emphasizing how Peter doesn’t take him seriously anymore. 

This Friday doesn’t start any different than usual. Quentin has a plan, a nice little piece of tech he’d like to pick up, that he’s pretty sure he can manage to get away with regardless of Peter. He makes a little announcement once he’s there, just making sure Peter knows where to find him, and gets to work. 

Peter doesn’t show up.

At first, Quentin doesn’t even realize it. He’s deep in untangling the security when it hits him that it’s been twenty minutes since he sent that out and Peter’s not here. That’s… unusual. Still, things come up; maybe Peter had to rescue a puppy on the way over or something.

Once it’s hit the half hour mark, Quentin starts to wonder. Starts to get a little annoyed. At this rate he’s going to be done and gone before Peter even shows up, and that’s not the  _ point. _ It’s just frustrating, because he needs Peter to make the sort of scene he’s used to, and Peter’s the one ducking out.

He takes his time, lets it draw out a little, but when it’s been an hour and change since he started this, he’s downright angry. Peter’s more reliable than this; this is what they do! It’s practically a commitment at this point! How dare Peter leave him hanging like this? Quentin expected better of him. 

Peter is more reliable than this. 

Quentin scowls down at the last few bits he’s replacing so it looks like he was never here. He’s  _ right _ to be annoyed; he’s not sulking about it. 

He’s definitely not a little worried. 

There’s a thump behind him. “Ohmigod,” Peter says, fast and breathless, “sorry, sorry!”

He’s a mess when Quentin gets a good look at him, webbing caught on one of his arms and a big smear of something on his suit and his mask isn’t even on straight. What the hell.

Peter’s half bent over, almost panting. “I know,” he says, “I know, I’m super late, crap. Sorry! I mean, I tried, I  _ told  _ them I had to go because Friday’s date night and they know that, I don’t know— what are you doing? What is that?”

“Nothing,” Quentin says, sticking it behind his back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay,” Peter says, “obviously whatever it is, you have to put it back. Just, just give me a second. Seriously, I did not mean to be this late or I would have like, said something.”

“I’m not going to give you a second,” Quentin tells him. “It’s not my fault you’re— wait. I— what?” he says, his mind finally catching up with what Peter said.  _ “What _ did you say?”

“Huh?”

He cannot— “This is not a date,” Quentin says. “There is no ‘date night’, that’s not— that’s not a thing!”

Peter laughs, high pitched and nervous. “No! I mean, duh, of course not,” he stumbles along, “it’s just a— a joke? You know, since you’re uh, pretty consistent about your plotting and like sometimes if it’s been a crappy week I end up looking forward to it a little and I mean, you do tag me when you post where you’re at and— uh. Uh.” The eyepieces of his mask are very, very wide, and Quentin feels frozen. “Funny, right?” Peter says, his voice very small. “Super funny, ha?”

It’s… not. 

There’s a long, very strained silence, Peter starting to twist his foot against the floor, glancing down. “Anyway…”

“What,” Quentin says, slowly, not quite believing the words about to come out of his mouth. “What if it… was?” 

Peter’s head snaps up. “Uh,” he says. He hesitates, and then reaches up and pulls off his mask, his hair poofing up ridiculously. “I mean,” he says, “I would possibly be okay with that? If— if it were a thing?”

He’s bright, bright red and it’s really cute. Fuck.

This is a terrible idea. This is—

Quentin takes a step toward Peter, and another. “It could be a thing,” he says.

Peter bounces on his toes a little. Takes a step of his own. “Quentin?” he says, coming closer. 

“Yeah?”

“I’d like it if it was a thing,” he whispers and Quentin can’t— 

He reaches toward and catches Peter’s chin, tipping his head further back. Peter’s mouth opens, his breath coming so fast, and when Quentin kisses him Peter makes this perfect, near silent little whine in the back of his throat. 

It slips from soft, careful, to something wanting and desperate and  _ hot _ in seconds, Peter’s hands catching the front of his armor, Quentin’s hands slipping up to curl around Peter’s neck, his cheek, holding him in place. 

“Shit,” Quentin says as it ends, Peter blinking at him. “It’s been date night all along, hasn’t it.”

Peter grins, sharp. “Yeah,” he says. “It kinda has. Sorry?”

Quentin’s not. 


End file.
